Hyphen
by Thorkone
Summary: It's been a crappy year for the agents and director of SHIELD and no one is in the holiday mood. Anna can't help herself though, and finds the perfect gift for Phil, never expecting him to reciprocate. One-shot (and short).


It hadn't been a great year. In fact, it had been a horrible year. And I was so looking forward to it being over. For most of my life, I had been giddy as a seven-year-old about opening my advent calendar and celebrating Christmas. While I'd been away from home in DC, Erin and I had made a tradition of having a sleepover at my place. We'd give one another pyjamas, fill each other's stockings and on Christmas day roast a chicken with all the fixings. She mostly did it to indulge my need to celebrate like we had at home, but I knew she was just as into it as I had been.

This year, there had been no new pyjamas, no Christmas viewing of Gremlins and White Christmas, no stockings stuffed with chewing gum, toothbrushes, candy and indecent underpants. There hadn't even been a tree. SHIELD had fallen, and I lived in a bunker that had been repurposed from the Cold War. We might call it The Playground, but it was a somewhat ironic name.

I could have insisted on some sort of holiday celebration that would be appropriate to the diversity of the small contingent of SHIELD staff and agents left. But considering that Fitz and Simmons were still avoiding one another, we'd just lost Tripp and I wasn't sure what Skye even was anymore, it just didn't seem appropriate. Phil had noticed that I'd withdrawn with the advent of the season. He didn't say anything, but I frequently woke with him warm against my back, his breath hot on my neck. I wasn't going to complain. He was trying to comfort me without broaching the subject. I didn't blame him for trying to avoid it. There was too much going on.

Christmas was being soundly ignored by all of us. I'd seen Phil admiring a fancy pen that he'd seen in a recon photo, so I tried to find out what it was. It had cost me a pretty penny, but I'd managed to order a similar model online, and had planned to leave it beside his pillow on Christmas Eve. After dinner, I thought I was being super sneaky and disappeared back to our shared quarters to stash the pen. I guess Phil was sneakier because he was waiting for me, relaxing on the sofa that made up the entirety of our 'living room'. He had a glass of scotch in one hand, and a small brightly wrapped box in the other. He'd already poured me a glass, and I could see the sweat beading on the outside of the glass.

"You didn't have to get me a present, Phil," I chided him. I meant it, despite what anyone might want to think. It was enough that we were both still alive and together after the year we'd had.

"A smart man doesn't ignore Christmas just because it's been a bad year," he deadpanned. I couldn't help but smile. I walked behind him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"I happen to have a gift for you," I admitted. Phil craned his neck to follow my movement.

"So I didn't have to get you anything, but you got me something. Glad we didn't have this conversation. And if we had, I'm glad I wouldn't have taken it at face value," he laughed. I rolled my eyes and reached into my bedside table to pull out the small box.

"Honestly, Phil. It's more about giving for me. I found the perfect gift for you. I wouldn't care if you hadn't got me anything. You've been busy. Distracted. Had a couple moments where saving the world came into play," I shrugged. I picked up my glass and settled on the couch beside him, tucking in under his outstretched arm. He dropped a kiss on my cheek absently. I slapped the box against his chest. "Mine first. I want to see if you like it."

Phil took his arm from around me, and put his glass and his gift for me on the coffee table. He pulled the ribbon off the box, and carefully picked the tape off the paper. It was maddeningly slow. I pivoted my bum off the couch and onto the coffee table to watch his reaction to opening the pen. The box was black leather, but otherwise nondescript. He quirked an eyebrow at me and I nodded for him to open it. He snapped the lid open and just stared. I could see his hand start to shake, just a little.

"Annie, this is," he paused and looked up at me, then back down at the pen, "I mean, where did you find this? This pen is –" He trailed off.

"I saw you eyeballing that pen from those recon photos in October. I couldn't get the exact pen. It's super rare. I had no idea collecting pens was even a thing, to be honest. This is a –"

"Waterford. This is an old, rare pen, Annie," Phil completed.

"It's a 412. That's real silver, which is different from sterling silver apparently? I thought it was prettier than the one you were drooling over, and turns out it's more rare. I know it's different. But I hope you like it." I felt nervous suddenly. Phil shook his head. My breath caught. Maybe I'd been way off base.

"It's too much, Annie." He looked back down at it. "This is, I mean, I've never –"

"Please say you like it, Phil. I don't think I can return it," I blurted. He snapped the lid shut and put the pen down on the table. He leaned forward and took my face in his hands.

"I don't know what I did to deserve a woman like you. It is the most incredible gift anyone has ever given me." He kissed me gently. "But I know what I pay you, Annie. And you can't afford this gift."

"I might have had a little nest-egg saved for a rainy day. We've had a year full of rainy days, Phil," I shrugged. He picked up the small box he'd been holding and looked down at his feet.

"I suddenly feel as though this is not really a fair trade." His chuckle was self-deprecating. I shook my head.

"I already told you, being here, with you, is enough. Everything else is just icing," I reassured him. He handed me the box. I did not show the same kind of restraint with the wrapping, and snapped the ribbon when it didn't untie easily. I ran my fingernail over the tape to pop the wrap open, and tore the rest free. There was a small card with a gold pin stuck to it. It was just a single bar, like a military insignia or something. I gave him a confused look. "Is this some kind of military rank?"

"It's not. Although I guess I should have thought of that," he replied. "It's a hyphen."

"A hyphen?"

"A hyphen," he clarified, and took a deep breath. His hands were shaking again. "I saw how you flinched the first time the nurse called you Mrs. Coulson, Annie."

"Because it was unfamiliar, sure," I agreed. "And to be fair, everything was making me flinch that day."

"You flinched every time any of the nurses called you Mrs. Coulson, Anna," Phil corrected. My stomach tightened a little in concern.

"I wasn't trying to –"

"The point is, Anna, I don't ever want you to feel you are giving up part of yourself in order to make our relationship a success," Phil explained. I was so confused. I looked back down at the pin.

"I don't get the hyphen part of this." I stroked my finger along the shiny metal. It was warmer than gold-plate usually was. It might have been real gold. Phil moved to the edge of the couch and took my hands in his.

"I'm making a mess of this, I think." He forced a laugh. "What I'm trying to say is that I will love you for every day of the rest of my life. I don't expect you to change anything about yourself. The hyphen is just a symbol."

"But of what?" I exclaimed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a second small box and I suddenly realized what he was trying to do. Tears sprang into my eyes.

"Would you give me a second gift this Christmas, Anna, and please consider becoming Ms. Ellis-Coulson?" He blurted it out. It was awkward, and he fumbled with the ring box. His hands were shaking so much he nearly dropped it. And I just sat there, stunned speechless.

"I –"

"I don't know when or if we will ever be able to get married, Annie. I can't make you any promises that it will ever happen. But I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you are the only woman in the world that I can imagine spending the rest of my life with. I probably knew it the day we met," he blurted. I could feel tears prickling at the back of my eyes, and my nose started to tingle.

"No." It was barely a whisper, but it was the word that came out as the tears overflowed my eyes. Phil dropped my hands, and sat up, pushing back into the couch. I shook my head and slid across the coffee table, bumping across his knees and into his lap. "I don't need a hyphen. I just need you." I pressed my lips against him, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. His circled my waist, and I could feel the box that he hadn't been able to open pressing against my hip.

"Did you just say yes?" He asked, and wiped at the tears streaming down my face.

"I did," I answered with a soggy smile. He kissed me again and slid me off his lap onto the couch beside him. After fumbling with the box for a few more seconds, he finally managed to get it open and presented it to me. It was a plain gold band, with a single small diamond inlaid. It was perfect, and beautiful.

"You deserve more," he apologized.

"I'm getting you, Phil. I didn't even need the ring," I reassured him.


End file.
